A victorious day
by heggyy
Summary: Victoire Weasley was named after the victory at the Battle of Hogwarts. But maybe she's sick of being used as a living memorial, her birthday blighted by memories of the war.


Victoire Weasley

Prompts:

1: Bat-Bogey Hex

7: Tinsel

11: Gliding

24th July. A day of death and a day of rebirth.

That's what my Mother always used to tell me. That the best and the worst thing happened on the same day. Just not the same year.

And that's the only thing that goes through my head as I slowly get dressed on the morning of my birthday. It's a sunny day, and I'm changing into my prettiest dress and jacket, for a breakfast of French toast before helping bake a massive cake for the large meal we're having tonight for all my friends and family. So why aren't I smiling?

The reason comes the moment I get downstairs.

Mum is sitting at the kitchen table, standing over Dad, her hands clasped on his shoulders. Both have slivers of silver glistening in their eyes. One breaks from Mum's eye, tearing down her cheek, splitting it in two. I don't need to look to know what they're looking at. An ancient photo album, full of faded photos of a smiling red-haired boy, a man who has the creased smile of a mischievous boy, a house-elf dressed in the strangest attire, a man and woman clasping each others' hands and staring at the camera, an old man with a long grey beard smiling behind his half moon spectacles and one, hidden right at the end, of a snarling man with a greasy mop of black hair. Sure, I know who they are; I've been told countless tales of the prankster Fred, brother of Uncle George; Sirius Black, the man who died protecting my parents friends; Dobby, the bravest house-elf; Tonks and Remus Lupin, the dead parents of Teddy; Albus Dumbledore, the wisest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen; and of course Severus Snape, who had been so brave.

But I didn't know _them_. I hadn't been there as they had fought against Lord Voldemort, or tried to persuade the Giants to join their side, or snuck into the Ministry of Magic. I'd heard all about Uncle Ron's incredible adventures with Harry and Hermione, and how the whole family had helped. But I wasn't there when Dumbledore had fallen from the Astronomy tower, or Harry, Hermione and Uncle Ron had been on the run for months. I never saw Gringotts before it was rebuilt or the remains of Godric's Hollow before it became a shrine, both for Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

And just one year, for one birthday, I want it to be about me. I don't want the meal to be interrupted with toasts for the fallen, or stories that had people laughing and crying. I didn't want photos to be passed around, or objects that once belonged to those who had died. But I could never say it out loud. It was too selfish – who was I to complain when I was alive and healthy and living in a beautiful house? I could attend Hogwarts in peace, without the fear of being prosecuted for who I am. So for the sixteenth time since I was born, my birthday will become the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Victoire!" Dominique shouts from the top of the house.

I spin on my heels and jog up to the top of the house. We used to live in Shell cottage – a beautiful but small two-bed roomed house by the ocean, but we moved when Louis was born, to a house near Ottery St. Catchpole, so we could be near Grandma and Grandpa. I miss the sound of the sea and picking shells off the beach, but I get my own room in the attic where I get a little bit of privacy with Teddy.

When I finally get to Dominique's room, she sits against the door.

"One minute!"

I tap on the door impatiently. Louis races past me laughing.

"Happy Birthday poo-face!" I roll my eyes. If I'm one thing, it's not poo-face. I'm one-eighth Veela, and I have long blonde hair, pale blue eyes and long lashes. Dominique's not bad looking either, but she's inherited the Weasley red hair, as has Louis. I used to love not having the horrible thick red hair and freckles, but when I'm at family events, like tonight, and everyone has the Weasley features, I can't help but feel left out. I wanted to forget my family altogether and go to Beauxbatons. Mum used to describe the ice sculptures at Christmas and the little powder blue uniforms, and I yearned to learn French and magic, and have my own room in the Chateau. But Dad appealed to my Grandparents and they stepped in and made me go to Hogwarts. Now it's all cold winter nights and freezing lessons in the Herbology greenhouses. I'm haunted by the Weasley red hair there too, constantly connected and tied down by every bobbing scarlet head. At least Teddy's in my year. We chose different NEWTs this year, but we still capture the stolen hour in the library or picnic by the lake.

Suddenly the door swings open and Dominique is standing there, looking guilty.

"Nothing!" She shouts, and then pushes past me and races downstairs, still in her pyjamas. I sigh and follow her. My sister can be weird.

When I get downstairs, there is a box waiting on the kitchen table.

"We wanted to give it to you later, but it just couldn't wait." Mum says, flipping the French toast so it is a perfect golden brown. The whole family watches on expectantly as I step forward and open the box.

Inside is the most perfect golden brown Labrador, a piece of red tinsel twisted round his neck. Tears spring to my eyes. His fur is so fluffy, and as I lift him gently out of the box, he opens is large eyes and makes a gently growl at the back of his throat. I stroke his tiny head.

"He's adorable." I say sappily.

"What are you going to call him?" Louis asks, clamouring closer to stroke him.

I stare into his perfect shiny black eyes. "Olive."

A cloud passes across Mum's face.

"We thought you could name him after Dad's brother. Or after Teddy's parents. A sort of living memorial."  
I stare at her. I'm not naming my puppy after my dead Uncle. Suddenly I snap.

"Stop living in the past! Today is my birthday not the anniversary of a battle! Not everything has to be about them! For once can you just think about how I feel always talking about people I never met! It's morbid!"

I shove the unnamed puppy back into the cardboard box and run out of the kitchen. I don't go upstairs – instead I slam out of the front door.

I hear someone calling after me, but I don't turn back.

Soon my sandals are slapping on the pavement, and I'm a few blocks away from the house. I'm running jerkily but the world is just gliding by smoothly. The hot tears that were streaming down my face have dried to create a stiff mask. Now I've had time to cool off I wish I hadn't started my birthday like this. But then I have another surge of anger at my parents. Why can't they just think about me for once?

I keep walking, past the village shop, past the church. Why did we even move to this horrible village?

Suddenly I know what I need. Teddy.

I turn on my heel and start jogging back where I came. But I don't stop at my house; I keep running till I get to the bus stop. I catch the Number 8 to the next village, and quickly find the foster home Teddy is living in. I ring the doorbell, trying to stop my heavy breathing. It's so early in the morning. They won't be awake.

The door swings open and Teddy's foster dad, Pete, opens the door.

"Victoire? It's rather early! I thought the celebrations were this afternoon?" But he's not cross.

"I need to see Teddy." I say. He doesn't question it, just turns back into the house and bellows Teddy's name. Teddy slouches down the stairs a few minutes later, his hair unbrushed, a hoodie tugged over his pyjamas.

"Oh! Victoire." He says. Pete disappears, leaving just us on the doorstep.

"Teddy." I hug him tight. He doesn't ask questions, just returns the hug and kisses the top of my head.

"Happy birthday."

I smile a teary smile.

"What's the matter?" He asks eventually, pulling me to sit down on the low garden wall in their front garden, sheltered from prying eyes by a high hedge.

"They won't stop going on about the Battle of Hogwarts. I know it sounds selfish, but I just want it to be about me."

A shadow passes Teddy's face, and it's only now I remember that his parents were fatalities of the battle. How could I be so thoughtless?

"I'm sorry Teddy." I say quickly. "I wasn't thinking."  
"No. You're right." Teddy says, quietly. "We need to move on and look to the future."

He reaches over and kisses me on the cheek.

"Just talk to your parents."

I give him a look.  
"Talk to your parents _sensibly_." He corrects.

I laugh softly, and he kisses me on my cheek. We are both remembering Dominique's birthday which ended with Mum storming out, me performing a Bat-Bogey Hex on Louis, and Dad standing in the middle of it looking completely fed up. Maybe we're just a dysfunctional family.

Everything feels better now I've seen Teddy. I stand up slowly.

"I should get back." I say. "I'll see you later." I reach up and kiss him on the cheek.

Then I walk back to the house.

When I get back there's a cake in the oven, the breakfast has been cleared away and my puppy is curled up in a cardboard box. Dominique and Louis must have been ordered to stay away, because they're hovering around the box cooing. Dad is fixing a cupboard door and Mum is starting to chop vegetables for the dinner. The only clue we've just had a fight is Mum's red rimmed eyes, ruining her otherwise perfect delicate features.

"Victoire." Her voice sounds a little strained but she manages a smile. "Do you want to feed Olive?"

I smile inside, but then I feel like a spoilt brat. I glance at Dad and he gives me a small nod. He must have talked Mum round.

Dominique is hopping from foot to foot in excitement, and I can hardly help but smile. Louis grabs a large pack of dried dog food and hands it to me. I rip it open and pour the hard pellets into my hand, and place it in front of Olive. His tiny tongue just licks my palm, tickling it. I glance up and Mum is watching me, teary eyed. Dominique and Louis are staring open mouthed.

Maybe things will be okay.


End file.
